Bad Habits
I just want you to choose me. Love me more.
The Kitten has been talking more lately. I think she feels as unsettled by the quiet of our new home as I do.
The ones who chattered at us are gone. She was probably getting quite used to the noise of having a child in the house.
My storage ottoman has arrived. Next Tuesday I will have a housewarming party and it will feel that much more official that this is my home. I am already concerned with the rising cost of rent- but if the rent doesn't increase by over 100 dollars I might renew anyway. It's cozy. There are things on the walls now. Art, I suppose. I have a television, a bed, and storage ottomans. This is the first time in 8 years that I have owned things and decorated an apartment on my own and I am quite pleased. There's a security to owning things that I hadn't experienced before. A feeling of being rooted. Of being capable. Only people who can afford to own things own things- so I must be someone who can afford things. I must be someone that deserves small luxuries.
I did't get the chance to write yesterday because I went out of the house with friends. I should text some of the friends I am not good at keeping up with. I got a text from the girl I met at the sex party. Apparently there is another one happening next month. I am not inclined to attend.
The sex party was very strange, but not at all counter to what I had expected. Mostly because I had low expectations.
It was held at this hotel by the abandoned mall that has now become a community college. The hotel itself was cute in that it was set up like an odd series of apartments- so maybe it was more of a motel. I think motels are the ones with doors facing the parking lots. Hotels are fancy because they have hallways. So the motel is set up like the kind of cute little town-homes you would find around New Braunfels. Woodsy looking vacation homes for people who can afford to spend their summer drinking and floating on the river. Except this was off of the freeway by the abandoned mall that became an expanded community college campus. I haven't been to that campus but I have heard it is really nice.
I was dark, as it seems only logical that a sex party would be held at night- although, if we were really being kinky it would probably be more interesting to have one during the day- and as I approached the building with my clothes and a pie I briefly considered this might be a mistake. The pie was so that I wouldn't have to pay the $10 suggested cover. The clothes were to change into, because I went to pick up the pie in a sundress, and I thought it might be nice, if there were sexy people, to be wearing lingerie at some point. I knocked on the door, without confidence, and was greeted by a much older, much larger, woman in a slip-over dress that might have been a mumu. Her face and voice were weathered in a way that implied she was a heavy smoker at some point, even if she didn't seem to smoke that night. She checked me in and told me where the kitchen was so I could put down my pie and wine. She did not misrepresent the rest of the party.
In fact, she was the perfect ambassador. Unlike the cheery skinny girls who pass out Monster energy drinks but are less representative of their consumer base than a pale, fedora-sporting, shut-in, she was quite like most of the people I was immediately confronted with when scanning the room. There was a startling amount of missing teeth for even a faces of meth presentation, so I was met with an interesting conflict of self: I was obviously much more put together than the rest of the attendants, but I am still one of the attendants. I decided to ride it out for a while. At the very least this would be a very interesting event for people watching.
And it was!
I read an article once that described a sex party, in New York, I think, in a much sexier light. People did not seem to stare in this article. It was just a chic mass of slender young professionals making love around one another as a way of unburdening themselves from the fast anonymous lives they live in the city. I imagined there were martini glasses and lush fabrics draped across every surface, underneath lithe bodies, also draped across every surface. This was not that kind of party.
As the night progressed I wondered if that type of party truly existed.
As more people wandered in we gained a small collection of elderly men, a few couples, and exactly two single men around my age. There were sex toys hanging from the walls. The kitchen held a modest vegetable tray, some meat-cheese-carb combinations, grapes, tuna sandwich triangles, and greenbean casserole. I thought my pie was weird when I first grabbed it, but I think we matched nicely among the rest of what was being presented. I also brought a rose I was not drinking fast enough. I meandered around, in heels and a dress with sheer panels I changed into, listening to people chat about their lives and how they found out about the party. Eventually there were games: a contest in which the men tried to drop a grape in between the women's breasts from the balcony, and Twister. I participated in neither.
I was quite certain I would not participate in anything. Especially after being approached briefly for conversation by one of the small older men. He reminded me of my father if he were slightly more European looking and that made me very uncomfortable. Then I think I was just slightly drunk enough and one of the two single men around my age offered to tie me up, so we went upstairs, and there was an audience. It didn't go on long because I think he was much more concerned by the audience than I was and he was physically unable to keep going. Still, it was an experience, and I think with that I got my kinky aspirations out of the way.
I should probably write about it in even further detail sometime, because it really was such a strange melange, but I need to wait until I can find a way of doing so without being degrading to the weirdos who hosted. Or the guys who showed interest in me. But I think that's just something I need to figure out how to move away from in life, because I always think the people who show interest in me are losers.
The Kitten has been talking more lately. I think she feels as unsettled by the quiet of our new home as I do.
The ones who chattered at us are gone. She was probably getting quite used to the noise of having a child in the house.
My storage ottoman has arrived. Next Tuesday I will have a housewarming party and it will feel that much more official that this is my home. I am already concerned with the rising cost of rent- but if the rent doesn't increase by over 100 dollars I might renew anyway. It's cozy. There are things on the walls now. Art, I suppose. I have a television, a bed, and storage ottomans. This is the first time in 8 years that I have owned things and decorated an apartment on my own and I am quite pleased. There's a security to owning things that I hadn't experienced before. A feeling of being rooted. Of being capable. Only people who can afford to own things own things- so I must be someone who can afford things. I must be someone that deserves small luxuries.
I did't get the chance to write yesterday because I went out of the house with friends. I should text some of the friends I am not good at keeping up with. I got a text from the girl I met at the sex party. Apparently there is another one happening next month. I am not inclined to attend.
The sex party was very strange, but not at all counter to what I had expected. Mostly because I had low expectations.
It was held at this hotel by the abandoned mall that has now become a community college. The hotel itself was cute in that it was set up like an odd series of apartments- so maybe it was more of a motel. I think motels are the ones with doors facing the parking lots. Hotels are fancy because they have hallways. So the motel is set up like the kind of cute little town-homes you would find around New Braunfels. Woodsy looking vacation homes for people who can afford to spend their summer drinking and floating on the river. Except this was off of the freeway by the abandoned mall that became an expanded community college campus. I haven't been to that campus but I have heard it is really nice.
I was dark, as it seems only logical that a sex party would be held at night- although, if we were really being kinky it would probably be more interesting to have one during the day- and as I approached the building with my clothes and a pie I briefly considered this might be a mistake. The pie was so that I wouldn't have to pay the $10 suggested cover. The clothes were to change into, because I went to pick up the pie in a sundress, and I thought it might be nice, if there were sexy people, to be wearing lingerie at some point. I knocked on the door, without confidence, and was greeted by a much older, much larger, woman in a slip-over dress that might have been a mumu. Her face and voice were weathered in a way that implied she was a heavy smoker at some point, even if she didn't seem to smoke that night. She checked me in and told me where the kitchen was so I could put down my pie and wine. She did not misrepresent the rest of the party.
In fact, she was the perfect ambassador. Unlike the cheery skinny girls who pass out Monster energy drinks but are less representative of their consumer base than a pale, fedora-sporting, shut-in, she was quite like most of the people I was immediately confronted with when scanning the room. There was a startling amount of missing teeth for even a faces of meth presentation, so I was met with an interesting conflict of self: I was obviously much more put together than the rest of the attendants, but I am still one of the attendants. I decided to ride it out for a while. At the very least this would be a very interesting event for people watching.
And it was!
I read an article once that described a sex party, in New York, I think, in a much sexier light. People did not seem to stare in this article. It was just a chic mass of slender young professionals making love around one another as a way of unburdening themselves from the fast anonymous lives they live in the city. I imagined there were martini glasses and lush fabrics draped across every surface, underneath lithe bodies, also draped across every surface. This was not that kind of party.
As the night progressed I wondered if that type of party truly existed.
As more people wandered in we gained a small collection of elderly men, a few couples, and exactly two single men around my age. There were sex toys hanging from the walls. The kitchen held a modest vegetable tray, some meat-cheese-carb combinations, grapes, tuna sandwich triangles, and greenbean casserole. I thought my pie was weird when I first grabbed it, but I think we matched nicely among the rest of what was being presented. I also brought a rose I was not drinking fast enough. I meandered around, in heels and a dress with sheer panels I changed into, listening to people chat about their lives and how they found out about the party. Eventually there were games: a contest in which the men tried to drop a grape in between the women's breasts from the balcony, and Twister. I participated in neither.
I was quite certain I would not participate in anything. Especially after being approached briefly for conversation by one of the small older men. He reminded me of my father if he were slightly more European looking and that made me very uncomfortable. Then I think I was just slightly drunk enough and one of the two single men around my age offered to tie me up, so we went upstairs, and there was an audience. It didn't go on long because I think he was much more concerned by the audience than I was and he was physically unable to keep going. Still, it was an experience, and I think with that I got my kinky aspirations out of the way.
I should probably write about it in even further detail sometime, because it really was such a strange melange, but I need to wait until I can find a way of doing so without being degrading to the weirdos who hosted. Or the guys who showed interest in me. But I think that's just something I need to figure out how to move away from in life, because I always think the people who show interest in me are losers.
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